


The Only Light You See

by romanticalgirl



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>someone write me gilmore girls au where Ian is Lorelai (minus the kid) and he runs an inn and drinks a lot of coffee and talks really fast and Mickey is Luke, the grumpy diner owner who pretends to be annoyed by Ian but is actually hopelessly in love with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Light You See

“Four coffees.”

Mickey looks up from where he’s wiping down the counter and sighs. “And how many of them are for you?”

“Just three.” Ian shrugs when Mickey’s eyebrow goes up. “Unless I drink half of Svetlana’s on the way to the inn.”

“I swear we need to send you to rehab.”

“Hey.” Ian sits at one of the stools across the counter from Mickey. “My love of coffee is not an addiction. It’s devotion. I am hopelessly devoted to coffee.”

“You start singing that song and I’m never serving you again.” Mickey put the last of the coffees in the carrier. 

Ian takes the carrier and leans in, inhaling deeply. “You’re the best. In fact.” Ian starts for the door glancing back over his shoulder. “Did I ever tell you you’re my heeeeeero?”

Mickey throws a towel at Ian, but he ducks out the door in time. Jimmy glances over at Mickey and shakes his head. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. So shut the fuck up or find somewhere else to make you breakfast.”

“You’re not the only game in town.”

Mickey’s brow furrows. “Yeah. I am, actually. So, like I said, shut the fuck up.”

Jimmy shrugs. “Fair enough.”

**

“Ian!”

Ian ducks in to the kitchen rather than going through the front door of the inn. It’s too early and he hasn’t had enough coffee to deal with Svetlana. “Hey, Fi. What’s on the menu?”

“Roast beast and something with a lot of garlic.”

“You are a chef par excellence.”

“Damn straight. Sheila’s making individual lemon meringues and lime tarts. She’s on a citrus kick.” 

“That’s good. It’s getting cold. People want to be reminded of summer. Have you talked to Debs?” Ian lifts the lid off a pot and gets smacked by a wooden spoon for it. He rubs the back of his hand, frowning at his older sister. “Hey!”

“Stay out of my food.”

“It’s my inn.”

“Yeah, and we’ll see how it does if I don’t make my food.” She takes toothpick and stabs a meatball with it, handing it to Ian. “Debs says we got the booking for next weekend. They’re renting two floors of the inn as well as the main rooms. Two people were going to be displaced, but Debs offered them the attic rooms for the normal room price and they were happy.”

“Good, good. I suppose I should go give Svetlana her coffee.”

“You know, it’s ridiculous that you walk all the way to Mickey’s for coffee when I make perfectly good coffee here.”

“He gives me a discount.”

“Yes, but I give it to you for free.”

“I’m supporting other small businesses.” Ian waves his fingers at Fiona and carries the coffees out into the main lobby. Svetlana’s leaning on the concierge stand looking bored as hell. “Coffee.”

“Took you long enough.”

“I had to talk to Fi about the menu.”

“You talk about Mickey. I can hear, you know.”

“You guys are delusional. Nothing’s going on with Mickey. He just makes really good coffee.” Ian finishes off one of the cups and tosses it in the trash. “And french fries. And burgers. And breakfast. You have to admit his breakfasts are pretty awesome.”

“I cannot wait until summer is over and I can go back to Russia.”

“Me either.” Ian smiles at Svetlana. “What happened while I was out?”

“Carl mows lawn. He loves tractor. It is unnerving. Balls are setting up for wedding on Wednesday. He hangs lights and she kisses bride’s ass. Crazy baker makes cake.”

“We heard from Frank?”

“I lock him in gardener’s shed with vodka, pot to piss in. He still will cause trouble..” Svetlana drinks some of her coffee and sighs. “We do not even need you, howdy-doody.”

“I bring you coffee.” Ian takes the last two cups and heads behind the wall toward the offices. “Let me know when the rest of the wedding party gets here, would you? I’ll come out and greet them like a good host.”

“I am good host.”

“You always insult people and makes them wonder why they’re giving us their money.” Ian goes into the office and sets a cup of coffee on Debbie’s desk. “Good job on the maneuvering, Debs.”

“That’s what you pay me for.”

“I don’t actually pay you.” Ian sat at his desk and stretched. “How does the rest of the summer look?”

“Not bad. Good enough to get us through the slower winter provided nothing breaks down, catches fire, or floods.”

“That is so much less comforting than I want it to be.” 

**

Mickey flips off the lights and goes to lock the door, coming up short as he looks up and finds himself staring at Ian. “What the fuck?”

“Let me in.”

“I’m closed.”

Ian points to the sign on the door which Mickey hasn’t flipped yet. “It says you’re open.”

Mickey flips the sign. “Now it doesn’t.”

“Please, Mick? I’ll owe you forever. I just need a milkshake. One of those amazing thick chocolate ones you make with whipped cream on the top and the little chocolate sprinkles?”

“There’s a Denny’s ten minutes outside of town.”

“Their milkshakes aren’t like yours. Pleeeeeease?”

Mickey exhales and rubs his face with his hand, twisting the key in the lock to open the door. Ian squeezes in like he’s afraid Mickey’s going to change his mind, which isn’t a bad idea. Except now Ian’s inside and already at the counter. Mickey locks the door and walks around without looking at Ian. He can feel Ian watching him as he goes over to the shake machine and gets the metal cup, scooping in chocolate and malt before digging out the vanilla and chocolate ice cream. Ian moans happily and drops his elbows on the counter, chin in his hands. 

“Isn’t once a day your limit?”

“Limits on ice cream are unAmerican.”

“I meant coming here. Normally I get you once a day. Though, technically, I’m closed, so I’m not sure if it counts.”

“I could come more than once a day.”

“Please don’t.” Further conversation is cut off by the whir of the machine. Mickey pours one shake out then starts to make another, using the time while it mixes to spray a cone of whipped cream on the top of one and sprinkle a dusting of cocoa. He sets it in front of Ian and then pours the second one. He brings it over and leans back against the prep line, taking a drink of his. “So what happened?”

“What do you mean?” Ian looks up and he’s got whipped cream on the tip of his nose and the cocoa powder is like a faint mustache. 

“That brought on this desperate need for a milkshake.”

“Oh. Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

Ian pouts and then shrugs. “There was a thing.”

“A thing.”

“Yeah. Kevin was stringing up lights on the gazebo for the upcoming wedding. And, well, it’s Debbie’s fault really.”

“What is?”

“She’s the one who said something.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Gallagher. Would you just say it?”

“The gazebo caught fire.” Mickey’s quiet for a moment, just watching Ian stare down into his milkshake. “And the wedding’s in three days. And right after they leave, I’ve got a family reunion coming into town and they planned to have their big picnic on the lawn. Where the gazebo was. Where bits of the gazebo still are.”

“Shit.”

“We can probably use the main town gazebo if I can get Mayor Lishman to let us.”

“Fuck no.” Mickey says faster than he thinks it. “His terms suck.”

Ian quirks a grin. “Well, sucking usually comes into play.”

“You need to stay away from that old fuck. He’s a creep.”

“Yeah, well, this wedding needs a gazebo, and the town’s got one. I’ll have to refund some of the money if we don’t use the grounds for their reunion, but at least they’ll still use us for their breakfast event and a place to stay. Provided the Karib’s don’t offer them some sort of discount.”

“Linda doesn’t offer _anyone_ a discount. I think she charges her family to live there.” Mickey takes the metal cup and pours more of the melting shake into Ian’s glass. “It’ll work out.”

“Yeah?”

Mickey nods. “Yeah.”

**

Ian stares at the door to Mickey’s diner in a mixture of shock and horror. He reaches out and grabs the handle, rattling the door a few times and then again for longer. It’s locked. The lights are off. Mickey’s diner is _closed_.

“Mickey!” Ian calls out, walking a few steps backward so he can see the window of Mickey’s small apartment. “Mickey!”

“He’s gone.”

“What?” Ian whirls around to face Kermit. 

“Mickey’s gone. Left this morning. Early.”

“Where’d he go?”

“Dunno.” Kermit shrugs. “Left early’s all I know.”

“But what about my _coffee_?” Ian watches Kermit walk away and kicks the brick wall then winces, hopping on one foot. “Shit. Shit.” It’s not even seven in the morning and Ian’s day already sucks. He’d stayed at Mickey’s until two, just talking and laughing with Mickey trying to make Ian forget about the gazebo. Mickey lets his guard down with Ian when it’s late, and Ian loves it. It’s hard to leave on nights like that. 

But this. This is inexcusable.

He storms off to the inn, barely nodding at the few people he passes on his way. He doesn’t have coffee and he needs coffee and there’s no goddamned coffee. He shoves open the front door and points at Svetlana before she can say a word. She raises her eyebrows to Mandy who is standing beside her, just finishing up her shift. 

“You look like angry carrot.”

Ian flips her off and heads straight for the kitchen. At least Fiona hasn’t let him down. He pours himself a huge cup and looks around the kitchen, frowning as he realizes he’s alone. He slams down the cup and ignores the splash of coffee over the rim. He goes back to reception and narrows his eyes. “Where is everyone?”

Svetlana opens her mouth to answer when a sound cuts through the silence. 

“What was that?”

She shrugs. “Noise.”

“I hate you so much.” He heads outside, following the buzzing sound. He sees the wedding party out on the patio drinking coffee and finishing off the plates of fruit that follow Fiona’s omelet breakfasts. Everyone is accounted for, so at least whatever the noise is isn’t waking up his guests. He waves to them and smiles and they wave back. 

Lip’s weaving between the couple of tables, refilling coffees and taking plates. He smiles at Ian in a way that makes Ian even more suspicious than before. He keeps walking, past the small stand of trees and turning the corner.

There’s a huge pile of wood, four sawhorses, two power saws, a bucket of hammers, a bowl full of nails and half of the town, including the majority of Ian’s family. “What the hell?”

“Gazebo,” Kevin says with a shrug.

“What?”

Kevin nods toward the tarp covered with pile of burnt wood sitting off to the side of where the gazebo used to be. Ian sees Jimmy, and all of the Milkovich brothers and cousins, People he’s not sure he knows by name are milling around as well, arming themselves with hammers from the bucket. 

“Excuse me!” Ian doesn’t quite shout, but he makes sure his voice gets heard. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?”

Mickey straightens up from where he’s squatting on the ground, going over what looks like some sort of blueprint sketched out on diner napkins. “Hey, Gallagher. Relax. There’s coffee over there on the table.”

**

The look on Ian’s face is worth not getting any sleep. It’s worth calling in favors to get the wood and the paint and the supplies. Fiona had managed to wrangle most of the help, but Mickey was taking credit for everything else. 

Ian walks closer as Tommy takes the napkins and heads over to where everyone’s gathered. Mickey stands there, smiling smugly. “Morning.”

“What are you doing here?” Ian looks around. “I mean, I think I know what you’re doing here, but what are you doing here?”

Mickey glances back over his shoulder. “You need a gazebo.”

“Right. But...”

“Gallagher. You need a gazebo. We’re building you a gazebo.” Mickey shrugs. “And, for the record, you say it enough, gazebo sounds really fucking weird.”

“Mickey.” Ian grabs Mickey’s arm and pulls him off to the side out of everyone else’s hearing. Mickey knows everyone is listening, but Ian doesn’t seem to notice or care. “Why are you building me a gazebo?”

“Because,” he says slowly, “the old one burnt down.”

“Don’t...fuck...” Ian exhales loudly and punches Mickey hard in the chest. “Fuck you.”

“What’s the problem, Ian? Your business needs this or you have to go to Lishman and get the city center, and that’s going to cost you either money or sexual favors. And you don’t need to be doing sexual favors for Lishman. No one does. Because that is disgusting. Fucking old pervert.”

“When I went by last night I wasn’t trying to get you to...”

“Hey. Hey.” Mickey puts his hand up to Ian’s mouth. “You didn’t make me do anything. You needed help. I could help. I’m helping. All of these people are helping because we like you and we want you to succeed and you’re a good person and you just need to turn around and tell everyone thank you and keep Carl away from the nail gun.”

Ian still looks bewildered as he gazes over at the crowd of people, all doing jobs as Tommy and Vee boss them around. His wedding guests are at the edge of the crowd now, offering to help as well. “I don’t...”

“Ian.” Mickey moves up behind him and rests his hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay to let people help you.”

“But I can’t pay anyone back.”

Mickey tightens his grip and makes Ian turn around. “Does anyone here look like they’re waiting for compensation? No. Give us a little credit. Sometimes we manage to do the right thing.”

“I think you always do the right thing.”

“You’re delusional then.” Mickey smiles at Ian and squeezes his shoulder before pulling his hand away. “Get to work. We’re not doing all of this on our own, you slacker.”

**

Sheila and Fiona disappear a couple of hours later then come out with a huge lunch buffet – sandwich makings, salads, desserts, four different types of bread hot from the ovens. People all gather together around the food, everyone taking a well-deserved break. Ian stands back and watches them all, a little overwhelmed. It’s only been a little while and already the gazebo is half done. Kermit showed up and started wiring the whole thing, and Ian’s having trouble wrapping his mind around all of it. 

Lip comes over and hands Ian a plate of food. “Eat.”

“I can’t believe everyone’s doing this.”

“Why?”

“It’s just...why? Why would they?” Lip sighs and takes a pinch of macaroni salad off Ian’s plate and flicks it at him. “Hey!”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Fuck you.”

Lip shakes his head. “People _like_ you, Ian. You’re nice. You do things for other people. You support the community. You helped organize a fucking clean-up patrol. You formed a book truck to deliver library books to people who couldn’t get around. People like you. You make them want to help people. You make them want to help _you_.”

“But why?”

Lip rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath, tilting his head up as if looking for patience or answers from the heavens. “I just told you why. All Mickey had to do was say it was to help you out and people were calling friends to get them to come too.”

“I just...”

“ _Ian_.” Lip grabs Ian’s face in his hands and forces him to look at him. “You’re one of the good guys. Maybe the only good guy the Gallagher family has ever produced in the entire history of Gallaghers. I know you want to do everything on your own, and I know being independent means a lot to you, but it’s okay sometimes. To have help. To let people help you.”

Ian looks around and sighs shakily. “I’m not sure how to do that.”

“By eating your food, talking to people, giving them shit. Say thank you. Buy ‘em all a beer at the bar.” Lip reaches out and flicks the macaroni salad bits out of Ian’s hair. “Go.”

Ian nods. “Thanks.” He does as Lip says, being sure to talk to and thank everyone. He offers the wedding party a free night for their help, but they laugh it off and refuse, telling him they’re having a great time getting to know all the people – the ‘characters’ - around the town. Ian’s just grateful that Frank seems to have stayed locked in the tool shed.

It’s late when everyone goes home, full of Fiona’s famous spaghetti and Sheila’s tiramisu and rum cake. Ian makes sure he says goodbye to everyone and sends them on their way, not realizing until he leaves Svetlana at the front desk for the night that he hasn’t seen Mickey, hasn’t said goodbye. 

He’s going to head to the diner, but he wants to take one last look at the gazebo. It’s bigger than it was and lit with built-in lights rather than random strings of white Christmas lights. The lights are on when he comes around the trees and he frowns. He’s positive he turned them off before they all went inside. He sees the smoke when he starts walking over, and fear grabs his chest, so he runs over, stopping dead at the edge of the flat stones that make up the floor.

Mickey’s sitting in the golden sprinkles of light, a cigarette in his hand. His eyes are in the shadows and it’s too dark to see the expression on his face with the way the lights are angled. Ian clears his throat.

“I thought you’d left.”

“Thought I’d enjoy the handiwork for a little while.” He takes a hit off his cigarette then drops it into a mostly empty bottle of beer. “What about you? I figured you’d be at home and passed out by now.”

“I said goodbye and thank you to everyone except you. I was heading to the diner when I saw the lights.” Ian walks over and sits next to Mickey on the small wooden bench built into the wall of the gazebo. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“Why not?”

Ian shakes his head. “Why?”

“I already told you why, Gallagher.” Mickey reaches over and pats the back of Ian’s hand where it’s sitting on his thigh. “Just suck it up, okay? It’s done and, unless you plan on burning it down, you’re stuck with it.”

“It’s the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Mickey shrugs and looks out at the night. “You deserve it.”

“Mick?” Ian exhales slowly and turns his head. “Thank you.”

Mickey looks at him and smiles, and Ian’s struck by how beautiful Mickey’s smile is, since it’s so rarely seen. “I just supplied the coffee.”

“No. You didn’t.” Ian scratches the back of his head and looks away before turning back to Mickey and leaning in, pressing a kiss against Mickey’s mouth. He pulls back before Mickey can react and sits there paralyzed. “You...” Ian licks his lips. “You did a lot more than that. You do a lot more than that. You...you _are_ a lot more than that.”

“Did you just fucking kiss me?”

“No.” Ian says hastily. “No. Nope.”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me. You fucking kissed me.”

“No I...” 

“Jesus, Gallagher. It’s about fucking time.” 

Mickey grabs the back of Ian’s neck and hauls him in, mouth fitting to Ian’s in a kiss, tongue sliding over Ian’s lips and then between them. Ian moans and surrenders, and then suddenly they’re kissing and touching and Ian’s whole body is shaking, his world rocking off its axis. When Mickey pulls back, Ian knows he’s probably gaping like a landed fish. “I...”

“You want some coffee?”

Ian nods, not sure what else to say. Finally realizing what Mickey’s been saying all along. “Yeah.”


End file.
